


A Hope Like You

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2019 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Civilian Jason Todd, Gen, Identity Issues, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parent Jason Todd, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Jason is a single father, trying to raise his children as best as he can. Gotham’s vigilantes mean nothing to him. Then a single heroic act exposes his secrets and invites Red Robin into his life.This could be the beginning of something, if Jason lets it.





	1. Don't know when I learned to play with matches

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings for this chapter: Fire, endangerment of children, light injuries, discussion of attempted murder/arson

Jason’s bones were tired. By all rights, he should be home. 

The evening shift paid better, though. Some rich guy had decided he needed this place built right now and was willing to double up at night, so working nights it was for Jason. He’d been kitting windows for hours. It was almost eleven pm, and he wouldn’t be home before five am. 

At least the time meant that fewer people were working. Their boss was intent on staying as quiet as possible at night, probably so no one called the cops to check their planning permission. Jason didn’t especially miss the jokes that tended to fly non-stop during the day. 

It was a point of pride here, to only hire alphas. Sure, officially, they weren’t allowed to do that anymore—equal opportunity act and all that. It just so happened that every beta or, god forbid, omega who applied was less qualified than an alpha candidate. Jason liked his coworkers well enough, but he could do without that shit. 

Six more hours, he told himself. Six hours and enough money to finally buy that—The paste looked weird. At first, Jason thought it had grizzled or something, but when he took a closer look, the light flickered. 

He looked up, out the window, and saw that the small house across the street was on fire. 

Oh, God. This was a poor neighborhood in the suburbs, if you could call it that. Most houses were still made of wood. 

“Fire!”

The boss and Bob were the only one close enough to hear. Jason called out, and they wasted no time, running down and towards the fire. He only hung back for a second to grab a couple of cloths, soaking them in water. If shit was hitting the fan, he wanted to be prepared. 

It looked worse from up close. The windows hadn’t burst yet, but it was only a matter of time. The doorknob was got when Jason tried it. Tipping his head back, he saw that the top floor and the roof appeared to still be intact, but for how long?

“Fuck!” the boss cursed, already dialing 911. 

“I saw lights on the second floor an hour ago.” Bob looked pale. 

Jason cursed and rattled the door again. The boss was calling emergency services, but God knew they wouldn’t come hurrying. Not out here. “Help me open this.”

The door was sturdy, obviously designed to keep intruders out. It took three tries, even with their combined bodyweight ramming against it. When it finally opened, Jason made an involuntary step backward as the heat hit. 

With the door open, they could hear screaming. “Adam! Adam! Liam!” 

Jason threw one of the wet cloths at Bob. They didn’t need to talk about it. With the fabric covering their mouths, crouching low to avoid as much smoke as possible, they went in. 

The room they entered was an inferno. Funnily enough, once they had made it through the first few feet, it got better. Jason knew better than to relax—smoke was the real killer—but it was hard not to feel good about not having flames lick inches from your face. 

Following the sound of the screaming, they found a woman. She didn’t even seem surprised to see them; all she was focused on was trying to get up to the second floor. Jason immediately saw what the problem was—the staircase was engulfed in flames, burning like no other part of the house. 

“Who else is there?” Bob had to yell. 

“My kids are up there!” she wailed, pointing to the landing. 

Jason, though, was eyeing the wooden railing further down the hallway. The woman was too short to reach, as was Bob, but he might just make it. “Where exactly?” 

She looked at him, just for a second. “There’s only one room. Adam!” 

He made his decision. 

“Get her to safety,” Jason snapped at Bob, trying to put a growl into his voice. It seemed to work—Bob nodded and started to pull the woman along, basically wrestling her out of the door, the flames closing in behind them as if to say: This way is shut. 

The truth was: Jason had no idea if he would make it out. Another truth: He could still hear someone faintly screaming. A kid. If he didn’t try, he would never forget that sound. 

Jason took a deep breath, tucked the wet cloth tighter around his neck, and grabbed onto the railing to pull himself up. It took some strength; he’d been working for hours already, and his muscles protested, but adrenaline prevailed, and then he was up there and running. 

The scene that greeted him was something out of a nightmare. A young boy was kneeling next to a bed, yelling for “Adam” to come out as smoke filled the room. He looked to be about seven, just like—don’t think about it.

Jason was on his way over, keenly aware they were running out of time (the floor beneath his feet was starting to feel hot even through his thick shoes) when the window shattered. Expecting the fire to surge with the renewed supply of oxygen, he braced himself. 

And found himself face-to-face with a vigilante. It took Jason a moment to place him; his signature cape was missing. The belt was pretty distinctive, though. Red Robin. 

Good. About time _someone_ cared. 

Red Robin didn’t waste any time on small talk, just shoved something into Jason’s hand. Looking down, he saw an oxygen mask like the one the vigilante was wearing. Shaking his head—he sure as hell wasn’t going to pull down his towel even for that second—he pointed at the kid, instead. 

The boy wailed when he saw them. That wasn’t a surprise. Jason felt like wailing, too. Sadly, comforting the child wasn’t his priority here. He picked him up with one smooth grip and lifted him so Red Robin could get the mask on. 

Setting him down and leaving the vigilante to check that it was on correctly, he bent down to see what had kept the boy here. The woman had been yelling _two_ names. He checked under the bed. A terrified toddler stared back at him, clearly tangled up in blankets and stuck under the heavy metal that begun to bend slightly. 

With a curse, Jason grabbed onto the bed and lifted it. The hot metal burned his hand—God, it burned—but Jason was used to ignoring the pain. All that mattered was that Red Robin could get to the blankets, and then the little boy was scrambling for freedom. Jason dropped the bed. Confident that Red Robin would take care of the little one, he grabbed the seven-year-old again and looked around. 

The stairs had crumbled. The lower floor was entirely on fire now, and it was coming closer rapidly. Fire moved upwards; it was a miracle they had had so much time.

Red Robin yelled something, hoisting the toddler onto his back. Jason couldn’t hear him or see the vigilante’s expression under the mask. His gestures were pretty easy to understand, though. ‘Out the window.’ 

_Are you fucking kidding me_, was his first thought. But—there was no other choice. They’d never make it out of the front door with the way the fire was rising to meet them. 

Red Robin was already running toward the window. Gripping the kid tighter, Jason followed. 

They jumped.

He somehow managed to turn them around mid-air, protecting the kid in his arms from the impact. Red Robin’s grapple had slowed them down; it didn’t manage to stop them from sliding along the asphalt, the grit and dirt scraping at Jason’s skin. 

When they stopped, he took a second to just. Breathe. The wet towel had come off in the fall, and while Gotham air could never be called fresh, it felt glorious to be outside again. Then he sat up and looked at the child in his lap. Thank God, he seemed unharmed. 

Jason bit down on the urge to ask if the kid was okay. Instead, he gave a little wave. “Hey, I’m Jason,” he told him. 

The boy stared at him. 

“That was real good, what you did in there,” Jason continued, trying to keep his voice soothing. “You saved your brother. Can you tell me if you’re burned anywhere? Does it hurt to breathe?” 

The kid shook his head. It looked like shock was setting in, Jason thought worriedly. And that smoke couldn’t have been good for him, mask or not. At least he’d stayed close to the ground, but kids couldn’t deal with this sort of stuff nearly as well as adults—

The woman from earlier came running, screaming: “Adam! Liam!” The boy bolted toward her, and Jason let him. 

“They’re fine,” Red Robin told her in a voice that did not leave room for doubts. The kids would be fine. “Is there anyone else in the house?” 

She was hugging both kids tightly to her chest. It took her a long moment to answer, the relief clearly overwhelming her, but finally, she shook her head. “Just us. Thank you, oh god, thank you—” 

With a start, Jason realized that her thanks were directed at him, too. “Good to see you’re okay,” he said, then coughed, knowing he sounded terribly awkward. Hey, this wasn’t exactly a situation he’d ever been in before, right? 

They could see an ambulance arrive with flashing light at the front entrance, closely followed by, finally, the fire department. Fucking finally. 

Red Robin nodded toward the ambulance. “You should go to them. Make sure the three of you are alright.” When the woman hesitated, he added: “They won’t charge you. I’ll make sure of it.” 

She nodded and started toward the flashing lights, still holding both kids in her arms. She must be stronger than she looked, Jason noted, dimly aware that this was probably his own shock finally setting in. 

That’s when he noticed his own smell. Or rather, the lack of what he usually used to pass off as his own smell. _Shit._ His scent maker, his most prized possession, must’ve gotten damaged in the smoke. Right now, everything smelled of the fire, but that wouldn’t last. Fuck, if his boss saw him like this—

There were two hands under his arms, pulling him up. “Get over there,” Red Robin hissed, pointing to an alleyway off to the side. “EMTs will be here in a sec, _move_.” 

The only reason Jason complied was that it corresponded to his own instincts screaming at him to run and hide. As soon as they were out of sight, Red Robin held out a gloved hand. 

“Show me.” 

“What?” Jason tried to play it off. “Are you hitting on me?” 

“What—no! Your scent maker is damaged, right? Your smell changed. Let me see if I can fix it. Please.” 

Jason’s shoulders slumped. There was no denying it, huh? And anyway, what did it matter. Everyone would know as soon as he got back. If it had been any other time of the month… but no, he’d needed the highest dose today. He’d have a quarter of an hour, tops, before everyone would know.

He pulled out the pod from underneath his collar and gave it to Red Robin, who examined it critically. 

“Heat damage and clogged up.” The vigilante pulled another scent maker out of his belt, adjusted the settings, and held it out to Jason. “Here.” 

Jason stared at it, then the small pockets on the belt in disbelief. He’d heard the claims that Batman could basically produce an entire kitchen from his belt, but this was ridiculous. 

Not like he was going to refuse, though. He needed this job. 

With practiced hands, he slotted the scent maker into place, not even wincing when the needle pierced his flesh, and looked up. The cowl covered Red Robin’s face. He couldn’t tell what the vigilante was thinking.

“Keep that one while I fix this.” 

“You can do that?” 

Now that was a distinct smirk. “Yes, I can.” Red Robin tilted his head at his hand. “Want me to put something on that?” 

Jason shook his head. He’d had quite enough of being touched this evening. Besides, he’d gotten worse injuries on a single night’s work before. 

“The door—” His throat hurt. Red Robin waited. “It was locked from the outside.” 

“Are you sure?” There was a voice distorter in that mask, no doubt, but it couldn’t hide the fact that this was an alpha questioning him. Jason didn’t let it affect him. He knew what he’d seen, in those brief milliseconds before the wall of heat had hit them. 

“Yes. The key was still there. And maybe check out the burn pattern.” 

Red Robin nodded. “I will.” 

His head was turned toward Jason as if he expected him to keep talking. Jason had nothing else to say, though. He straightened up, squared his shoulders. “I better get back.” 

“Oh, yeah. Don’t want to add a kidnapping charge to my night.” 

“Yeah.” 

Jason limped off. He probably should have thanked Red Robin or something, but there still were five hours left of his shift, and he was so tired. 

Back at the construction site, he was greeted with applause. 

“Well done!” Bob slapped his back, narrowly avoiding his injury. “Shows what a true alpha can do, huh?” 

Jason had a lot of practice at not wincing. “I guess.”

“What did Red Robin want?” the boss asked curiously. 

Jason shrugged. “He had some questions about how the house looked when we entered it.” 

“Suspects arson, does he?” 

Well, yeah. The smell of petrol and alcohol had been unmistakable. Someone had spread crude accelerants near the only exit and on the stairs, and then locked the door. “I suppose.” 

The boss suddenly seemed to notice how beat Jason looked. “Tell you what, take the rest of the night off. Paid. You too, Bob.” 

Well, Jason wasn’t going to refuse that. 

On his way home, he considered Red Robin. Truthfully, he didn’t know much about him. He was one of Batman’s, whatever that meant. Not like anyone understood how that whole thing worked. Probably one of the many ex-Robins running around, considering the name. 

Jason had no particular feelings toward the masked vigilantes trying to police this city. Good on them for trying, he supposed, but it wasn’t like they’d ever helped him. 

Well. Until tonight. 

Could he trust Red Robin to keep his secret? That was the kind of consideration that usually made panic well up. Right now, though, he was too tired. He wanted to be home. Everything else could wait. 

To his surprise, the lights were still on in his apartment. He’d expected the low sounds of the tv—Kori and Roy were babysitting, after all—but all the lights were on, and _someone_ was running toward him who should definitely be in bed. 

“Daddy!” Morgan yelled with glee, jumping into his arms. He probably smelled like soot and ashes. Luckily, his kids were used to strange muck on him after construction jobs. 

“We finished early today. What’re you still doing up, pumpkin?” he asked, eying Roy, Kori, and Riley, who looked at them from the couch with guilt written large in their faces.

“Watching a movie. Lian fell asleep right away.” Her voice was scornful. “But I watched the Lion King all the way through!” 

He should be mad. They had just established a routine with school and work and everything. However, Jason was just so glad that his little girl was here, safe in his arms, that he just hugged her and asked: “Did you? How was it?” 

If he clung to her a bit more tightly than usual while she recounted Simba’s adventures, she didn’t complain. 

The next morning, Jason was up early as ever. Sure, he hadn’t slept much—Roy and Kori had cornered him after the kids had finally gone to sleep and demanded to know what had happened—but this was _his_ time to recalibrate for the day, go over schedules and chores, adjust the budget. And to enjoy his first cup of tea, watching the sunrise. 

Somehow, despite never having told Red Robin his name or address, he wasn’t surprised to find a small red package lying on the window. All the bats were stalkers. Everyone knew that. 

He sighed and unwrapped it. There lay his scent maker—no doubt functioning perfectly—along with a note: _Keep the other one. Always good to have back-up. _


	2. The things you run from, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason and his children meet Tim Drake-Wayne. And then Red Robin shows up again.

The library was packed, Jason noted with dismay. This was his first day off since the night of the fire, and since it was a Saturday, he’d been hoping to get Riley and Morgan decked out with some new games and books. 

Morgan, of course, shrank as soon as she saw the crowds. Jason took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Riley, can you check out what’s happening?” 

Used to this kind of request, Riley slipped inside for a minute and came back to report: “Some kind of event. I think they found a new sponsor. Not as many people as it looks like,” they reassured Morgan, “and no one is talking except on stage.” 

“Okay. Let’s try the other entrance, maybe we can avoid it entirely.” 

But Riley stuck their lower lip out. “I wanna see.” 

Fearing another hormone-fueled shouting match if Riley didn’t get their will, Jason gave in. At least there were plenty of people standing around the seating area. No one would notice them coming and going.

“…and one of the youngest CEOs in the business world: Timothy Drake-Wayne!” 

The man that made his way onto the improvised-looking stage smiled winsomely as he thanked the library director. “It’s an honor to be here, really. The Martha Wayne Foundation is always looking to support local projects, and it couldn’t have found a better recipient than this library.”

Jason wasn’t impressed. Drake could’ve just donated the clothes he wore and financed the library’s expenses for a year. All those rich people, handing out 0.0001% of their inherited wealth and expecting to be thanked forever for it. 

He gestured to Riley that he was taking Morgan into kid’s section, away from all the noise, and they nodded. 

Both he and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief when they were in the separate room that housed the books for children under ten, as well as several toys. Crowds just weren’t his thing, either. Honestly, how he managed to have one extrovert kid was beyond him. 

“Alright, sweetie, pick three books.” 

“Dinosaurs!” Morgan said decisively, heading straight to her favorite section. 

Jason took a seat on one of the low couches with relief. His muscles still ached from the week’s exertion. They spend a pleasant hour like that before being interrupted. The event must’ve ended. 

“Yeah, this is the kid’s section. It’s pretty small, but they have a lot of good stuff,” Jason heard Riley say. “I learned to read here.” 

“Then it’s doing a good job,” a deeper voice answered. Jason turned around to see who it was—and stared. 

What on Earth was Riley doing, showing Timothy Drake-Wayne around? 

“Hi,” the man, noticing his gaze, waved at him. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne.” As if Jason didn’t know. 

“Jason Todd, nice to meet you.” Jason got up, aware that Morgan was hiding behind him. 

“Riley has volunteered to show me this section,” Drake explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Nice to see they’re occasionally still enthusiastic about reading,” Jason said with just a touch of sarcasm. Riley flushed, caught. 

“We did stop by the comics sections first,” Drake admitted. “Pretty good selection.” Dude probably had never been in a library as a kid, if Jason was any judge. 

There was a moment of silence. No one seemed to know what to say. 

“Dad tells the best stories.” Morgan of all people finally ventured. 

“Does he?” Drake rewarded her with a smile. It was nice, Jason thought, if you went for that sort of thing. Not entirely as fake as the one on stage earlier. 

However, it wasn’t enough to draw Morgan from her shell. She shrank back again, merely acknowledging his question with a slight nod before burying her face in Jason’s thigh. 

Jason carded a hand through her hair soothingly. “She likes hearing stories about her pet elephant, and sadly, no one has written about Benjamin yet.” 

“Pity. My brother has a pet elephant, too. I’m sure he’d love to read about him.” 

“Just checking—we’re talking about a stuffed elephant here, right?” Jason asked. You never knew with this kind of people.

“Yeah, though it’s named after the real one.” 

See? That was what Jason was talking about. Fucking rich families. Who knew what the Waynes were hiding in those caves under the manor. 

Riley looked skeptical, too, but for a different reason. “How old is your brother?” 

Drake’s smile widened. “Thirty-two.” 

“You’re kidding.” Their eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s Dick Grayson, right? The Dick Grayson that did the spread for Bravo?” 

“Yupp, that exact one. Did you like it?” 

“Eh, it was okay.” Riley shrugged. “The shirt was a bit tacky.” 

Jason, who knew for a fact that they had spent all their pocket money on buying those three issues so they could glue together the poster, wisely didn’t say anything.

Drake, though, looked delighted. “Please allow me to tell him you said that.” 

“I think it’s pretty. Sparkly.” Morgan announced, her words muffled due to still being spoken directly into Jason’s leg. 

Riley, who had looked pretty rattled at the possibility that their words might actually be passed on to their second-favorite celebrity, gratefully took the opportunity to turn the conversation around on Drake. "Any glittery photoshoots in your future?" 

“Nah, Dick’s the pretty one. Better to let him handle it.” 

“Well, nice chatting to you,” Jason said quickly; he could see the ‘true’ form on Riley’s lips already. “I think the director is waiting to talk to you, and we’ve got to head back.” 

“Wait!” Drake busied himself with something in his bag for a second, then handed a plain-looking business card to Jason. “Here. Call me anytime, yeah?” 

Jason knew he wasn't hiding his scepticism well as he took it. “Sure.” 

Of course, the first thing out of Riley’s mouth when they left the building was: “He gave you his card! Can I see it?” 

“He probably hands that out to everyone,” Jason grumbled but handed over the card to Riley, who scrutinized it.

“Nope, that’s a handwritten number on the back. Dad, I think he’s into you.” 

“Bullshit. We barely talked.” Jason had given up on not cursing in front of his kids about thirteen years ago. 

Riley rolled their eyes. “He gave you _his card_. With his personal cell phone number on it. And he said to _call him_.” 

“I thought kids were supposed to be jealous when someone is interested in their parent,” Jason mused. 

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else waiting in the wings. And he’s rich and not, like, disgustingly old.” 

Jason winced and prayed no one else heard that. Teenagers were brutal. “Glad to hear you approve.” 

“I don’t,” Morgan piped up, sounding cross. “He looks like he never poops.” 

Jason laughed and bend down to pick her up. She’d had a long day. “Tired, sweetheart?” he asked. 

Morgan didn’t reply in words, but the way she started twisting his hoodie strings between her fingers told him everything. Jason shifted his grip so it held her more securely and kept walking. She was too old for this, technically, but Jason thought people who put age limits on being carried by your father should go fuck themselves as joylessly as possible. 

Riley made a big show of rolling their eyes and muttering, “Everyone poops,” but Jason knew fully well that they would offer Morgan their own hoodie strings to play with within the next three minutes. They both were such suckers. 

Despite Morgan’s tiredness, by the time she was in bed, Jason’s phone told him it was past ten. Lisa had dropped Louisa May off, and of course Morgan had to make sure her beloved dog was feeling better. The whole procedure had added about fifteen steps to their nighttime ritual. 

He suspected Riley was still up. Kid wasn’t as subtle about that flashlight as they thought. Since it was a Saturday, Jason was feeling generous. He’d give them another hour or so before checking again. 

For now, he just stood on their tiny balcony and breathed in the night air. Somewhere below him, many of his friends were heading out for the night, for work, pleasure or both. Jason thought of the two precious humans in the other room and didn’t envy them. 

Louisa May started growling. 

Now that she was doing that, Jason thought he felt it, too. He was being watched. A quick confirmed the lights in the apartments opposite his were off. Maybe from the roof?

“Who’s there?” he called out. 

No answer. 

Jason pulled out his phone. “I can see you, and I _will_ call the police!” 

Nothing. 

He started entering the passcode. 

Red Robin dropped out from the fire escape. Holy fuck, that was _a lot closer_ than where Jason had guessed him to be. 

“That dog is new.” The metallic voice was just as bland as he’d remembered. 

“She isn’t, she’s just been staying with a friend,” Jason told him. “Though thank you for letting me know you’ve been stalking me for a week.” 

“It’s not precisely stalking…” 

Louisa May growled again, and Red Robin bristled. 

Jason was tempted to let him get riled up some more, but that possibly wasn’t the smartest choice when it came to an alpha vigilante. “Good dog,” he whispered, giving the signal for ‘friend.’ “It’s okay.” 

Louisa May calmed down reluctantly. She was cautious around alphas, and for a good reason. 

“Can I give her a dog treat?” Red Robin asked, hand already going to his utility belt. 

“No.” 

That surprised the other man, his hand visibly stalling for a second before dropping to his side again. To his credit, he didn’t protest his trustworthiness. “Okay.” 

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked. 

“Your picture was in the paper. Looks like your boss talked, and now everyone knows you saved those kids.” 

“_We_ did,” Jason corrected automatically. “Wait, and that brings you here, why?” 

“I haven’t been able to locate the arsonist yet.”

Jason stiffened. Oh, fuck. He hadn’t even considered that. 

“The prime suspect is her ex-husband,” Red Robin continued, his voice as apologetic as the voice distorter allowed. “GPD believes he left the city, and I’m inclined to agree, but…” 

“Is she safe?” 

“We got her a new identity. She’s living in… somewhere else now. I don’t suppose you would agree to do the same?” 

“I wouldn’t, no.” Jason didn’t even have to think about it. They couldn’t afford a move, not to mention the loss of their support system. 

“We’d pay for everything.” 

Yeah, right. For a while, maybe. Jason was under no illusion—the bats would forget about him quickly enough, and then where would his family be? 

“The answer is no.” 

He could see Red Robin’s shoulders squaring up at his confrontational tone. Fucking alphas. Everything was a personal challenge to them. “Would you at least consider a change of employment? The name of the company was in the article, and this dude could easily follow you home.” 

“Like you did?” 

“Oh, please, as if that was necessary to find you.” 

“…anyone ever tell you that you’re creepy?” 

“All the time.” 

“Somehow I’m not surprised. And anyway, you got a better job lying around?” It’s not like Jason wouldn’t love to get away from that construction site. It was just that the times were okay, and the pay was even better. 

“In fact, yes.” Red Robin’s voice was infuriatingly smug, now. “I happen to know that Mukhdar Corp is hiring team leaders for their reforestation projects right now. Twice the minimum wage, regular hours, scent-neutral hiring process.” 

…right. Red Robin knew about that little factoid. Jason tensed, prepared for him to ask about why he was hiding his actual scent, but all Red Robin said was: “Just send them an e-mail and mention my name.” 

Jason could just imagine that cover letter. ‘I have great leadership abilities, years of experience in the construction field, and also, Red Robin.’ 

He sighed, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “Look, dude. I owe you one, but I’m not gonna stand out here and watch you do your thing. You want a coffee or something?” 

“That would be—”

Something beeped softly, and the vigilante stopped speaking. He tilted his head, as if listening to someone, and tensed up. The air suddenly smelled of alpha and adrenaline. It took everything in Jason not to take a step back when Red Robin growled: “Need to go.” 

Within seconds, he was up and away.

Jason stared after him, mind working overtime. That had been fucking bizarre. Just as well Red Robin had left before he could take Jason’s invitation. Jason wasn’t sure what had possessed him to make it in the first place. That way only lay trouble. 

The job offer was tempting, though. Mukhdar Corp was run by Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s youngest child, if Jason remembered correctly. So the rumors about the bat being linked to the Waynes somehow were right, huh. 

Well, it couldn’t hurt to apply. Jason wasn’t above charity if it helped him keep his kids fed.

Speaking of charity…So the newspapers said he was a hero, huh? Maybe that was why Drake had given him his number? Perversely, that made Jason feel better about the whole flirting thing, if that's what it was. And if he managed to get a better job, he might even have time for a date or two….

Perhaps he’d text Drake in the morning, after all. Wasn’t like anything would ever come out of it, but that suited Jason just fine. It would get Riley off his back, at least.


	3. Waiting for a quiet day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason has a job interview and makes plans for a date.

To not be nervous about a thing, do something else that makes you even more nervous. You’ll either throw up or get two things done in one day. Jason firmly believed that.

So on the morning of his job interview, he finally took out his phone and texted Tim Drake. 

_Hi. This is Jason._

Unoriginal? Maybe. But what the fuck did you text a guy that you met once and then proceeded to ignore for a week because your confidence never lasts until the next morning? 

Happily, there was an immediate answer. _Hi, Jason! Happy to hear from you :D How are you? _

_Good. On the train to my job interview._

_That’s exciting! Sorry, I’m between meetings rn so…_

The reply ended in a picture of Spongebob. Why would Tim Drake-Wayne send him a picture of Spongebob?

_…I have no idea what that means._

The ‘typing’ button lasted a long time, but in the end, all Tim replied was: _Just saying I’m about to leave and unhappy about it. Good luck with your interview! Talk to you later? _

Oh, great. 

_Thanks. Sure. _

He wasn’t even that old, Jason told himself. If he was any other dude his age, he would’ve gotten the meme. But with the kids… And it wasn’t like his phone could really handle twitter or any of the other large apps. It was shitty and second-hand and as likely to fall apart any minute as to survive the week. 

Riley was gonna want one soon, too. All the other thirteen-year-olds had one, and their birthday was coming up. Jason was trying not to think about it. 

And Morgan needed new clothes. Buying them online would be cheapest, but they’d have to order bulk. Morgan needed to touch fabrics to know if she could stand wearing them. However, Jason’s credit score was somewhere at the level of arctic temperatures, so he would have to pay in advance for the entire order, which he couldn’t. 

Maybe he would be able to take the kids shopping with the new paycheck, he thought—then immediately knocked on wood. That sort of thought just let to disappointment, in his experience. 

There were some weird stares by the other passengers. Jason was glad to get off the train. 

Mukhdar Corp had one of these airy, modern buildings that Jason associated with his one visit to Metropolis. There were solar panels on the roof and enough trees to supply the moon with oxygen. Jason immediately felt underdressed in his Walmart slacks and nicest shirt. 

Then he told himself that he was here for a construction job, not as an accountant, rolled his shoulders back to stand straight, and walked in. 

“Hi, my name’s Jason Todd. I’m here for an interview at eight.” Unusually early, maybe, but the person on the phone had been very accommodating when Jason requested that slot. 

“Hello, Mr. Todd.” He typed something into his computer, then looked up and smiled. “Miss Cho, Mr. Wayne’s assistant, will be down to pick you up shortly.” 

“Great, thanks.” 

He expected to be led to some HR person or another. Instead, the PA took him all the way to the top floor. When Jason stared, she motioned him forward, whispering, “Good luck.” 

Damian Wayne was—a lot younger than Jason expected. And, honestly, shorter. He had all the mannerisms of a CEO down, up to and including the suit and the gelled-back hair, but he couldn’t be older than what, eighteen? 

Those eyes were sharp, though, and his handshake firm. “Mr. Todd.” 

“Mr. Wayne. Thank you for inviting me.” 

They sat down. Jason noted that, true to Red Robin’s word, Mr. Wayne didn’t comment on Jason’s scent suppressor. In fact, he seemed to be wearing one himself. The air smelled of nothing but the flowers artfully arranged on the table. 

“So. Tell me about yourself.” 

Jason just about managed not to roll his eyes. This fucking question. “My name’s Jason Todd, I’m twenty-seven and have worked in construction for six years now, most recently at Cole Construction, where I led a team of six people.” Okay, ‘led’ might stretch it, but the internet and books about job interviews had told him that it was better to embellish than to be modest. 

“And what brings you here?” 

“Well, I’m here to apply for a job.” Okay, that had come out too sarcastic. “An acquaintance told me about your reforestation projects, and it sounded fascinating. Gotham could certainly use some more green.” 

“You could say that. What would you say are your three best qualities?” 

“Initiative—I don’t need to be told what needs doing. I’m safety-conscious and detail-oriented, so there won’t be any unnecessary risks through slacking-off on my watch. And I’m highly motivated.” 

“And why should we hire you into a leadership position directly? Most of the time, we just advance a team member.” 

Because it paid better and Jason always ended up bossing everyone around, anyway. “I bring the necessary experience. My feedback has always been that I am a good and meticulous planner, and I genuinely enjoy doing it.” 

Mr. Wayne waited. Jason could tell that he hadn’t convinced him yet, so he continued: “More than that, though, I’m not afraid to ask for help. In my opinion, a leader has to be the one to take responsibility for the team’s decisions. Doesn’t mean I can’t ask for input or help. I’ve seen newly arrived leaders stumble because they were afraid to use the expertise that’s at their disposal. I have no intention of making the same mistake.” 

That seemed to do the trick. Mr. Wayne leaned back, though Jason did not fool himself that the other man had relaxed. 

“Good. Now, Mr. Todd, as you surely know, this is my company. I founded it, I take great interest in it, and am personally involved in the day-to-day work.” 

_And I’m sure you interview every lowly construction worker yourself, _Jason didn’t say. Whatever connection Red Robin had with this man, it was powerful enough that the boss himself took an interest. 

At least he could be reasonably sure Damian Wayne wasn’t Red Robin, which had been his first instinct. Their mannerisms and built were utterly dissimilar. 

“I assume you have read our website and are familiar with our mission statement?” 

Jason nodded. As if he’d go in unprepared. 

“Before I tell you more, do you have any questions?” 

Oh, yes, he had. “What would a typical day on the job look like?” 

Mr. Wayne nodded. “The vacancy we are looking to fill is that of a team leader. Our previous one has moved onto a management position in the finance department. A team leader is responsible for preparing and executing any of the dozen projects we have planned at any given time. You will be given a constant crew, but your place of work may differ.” 

“I know my way around,” Jason offered. “Lived in a lot of neighborhoods, particularly the ones you look to be targeting.” 

“That could be helpful,” Mr. Wayne acknowledged. “Community involvement is a part of many projects. You will usually arrive at the project site at eight, then work until four-thirty, with half an hour lunch break. Depending on the job, there might be an architect to assist you; if not, you are on your own as for the coordination of materials and labor.” 

“I assume the architect would be for the green walls?” Jason had only seen one of these so far, but he’d immediately loved them. The plants, mostly mosses, had given the municipal building a much-needed boost. 

“Yes, among others. Does that answer your questions?” 

“One more. What would make you hesitate to choose me?” 

That question seemed to please Mr. Wayne. There was an amused slant to his mouth now. “What did you do before you worked construction?” 

Yeah, that was about what Jason had expected. “I am a single father.” Technically, that was none of Mr. Wayne’s business, but Jason knew all too well that bosses would find out eventually, and nothing would stop them from firing him on the thinnest of pretexts. No point in taking a job if he would just be out on his ass two months in, so Jason preferred to be upfront. Also, it was a way more sanitary answer than the actual truth. “Kids were too small to leave with a sitter all the time, then.” 

“Ah. Well, that should be no obstacle. We pride ourselves on being a family-oriented business, including paid sick days for you or, for two days in a row, if one of your children is ill. Health insurance, of course, and work accident coverage.” 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “That’s very generous.” 

Damian Wayne’s hand gesture seemed to shoo any notion of generosity or kindness far away. “My family believes that healthy workers are better workers.” 

Right. This was a family company, after all, if one owned by one of the wealthiest guys in the city. 

“We invest a lot in the individuals we hire,” Mr. Wayne continued. “There will be a six-week introductory period in which you will be trained in our methods as well as receive a thorough education in practical ecology, followed by more on-the-job training. We also offer those of our employees that wish to advance scholarships to Gotham U. _However_,” he threw a pointed glance at Jason, “that means we are thinking long-term when hiring, and expect the applicants to do the same.” 

Hearing the implicit question, Jason nodded. “Understandable. I appreciate that.” 

“We also offer our employees free monthly tickets for public transport, zones A, B, and C. It’s part of our pro-environment policy and includes any children under 16.” 

Okay, wow, that would help _so much_. Like. For that alone Jason would take the job. Most required a car these days, and he just couldn’t afford that. 

“I see.”

Mr. Wayne must’ve read his thoughts on his face, for his smile sharpened. “I take it you are interested, then?” 

“Very,” Jason admitted, hastening to add: “Even apart from the benefits, it’s just an exciting job, and one I would be proud of doing.” 

“Good. We offer a standard entry contract to all our workers, as agreed to with the union. My secretary will hand you an example when you leave. If you are amenable, you may send the signed copy in. What’s your earliest start date?” 

Jason tried not to gape. “Uh. Monday, if I hand in my notice tomorrow.” 

“Then do that.” Mr. Wayne stood up and offered Jason his hand again. “Have a good day, Mr. Todd.” 

It was all Jason could do to tell him: “You, too.” 

Once outside, Jason took one of the deepest breaths of his life. Had—had that really just happened? Like. This shit usually didn’t go that way for him. 

Free public transport. Jesus. 

He checked his phone. Not that it felt that way at the moment, but the whole interview had only taken about twenty minutes. Wasn’t that rather quick? Not like Jason had much to compare it to, but... 

His phone vibrated with a message. 

_I know you’re probably still in there, but let me know how it went when you’re done!_

_Just finished._

_AND?_

Jason grinned. _I can start next week._

_Congrats!!!! Where you gonna be? _

Now that he knew that he had the job in the bag, he allowed himself to text: _It was with your brother, actually._

_Wait, not at Wayne Co.?? _

_No, Mukhdar._ He hesitated, then added: _Will that be a problem?_

_Nah. I’m not exactly Dami’s favorite. No need to worry about undue influence or nepotism there._

And, uh. That hadn’t been what Jason meant, but. Good to know, he guessed. 

_Cool._

_How about dinner to celebrate?_

Jason hesitated. It sounded tempting, but: _I’ll have to arrange a babysitter first. How about Friday?_ _I’m working the day shift, we could meet up after six._

_Sounds great. _

It actually kinda did. Jason was still staring at his phone, trying not to grin, when it started ringing. Roy. 

Jason picked up, preparing to tell his best friend and his kids the best news they had all year. It looked like life might just be improving for them, at last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Tim’s POV.


	4. White light at first sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian expresses an opinion Tim does not want to hear, and he finally gets his date.

Tim watched as the lights in the Todd household went off and sighed. He’d hoped to catch Jason on the balcony again, but ever since that meeting two weeks ago, the other man had taken great care not to be outside alone after sundown. 

Other people might take the hint. Tim wasn’t so easily deterred. He was content to observe for now. Besides, he had another angle of attack ready. 

A movement behind him had him turn around. A familiar figure stepped out of the shadows.

“Robin.” 

“Red Robin.” Damian’s tone was mild. That was the first warning sign. “What are you planning?” 

“Well, I _was_ planning on having a nice, normal evening of keeping Gotham from self-destructing, but now I apparently gotta talk to you.” 

“You met this man on a mission.” 

“Coincidence.” 

“And then you sent him to me to apply for a job.” 

Tim shrugged. “Which was necessary because his involvement made him a target, which is the other reason I’m here tonight.” 

“And tomorrow,” Damian continued, unrelenting, “You are going on a date with him.” 

“How did you even—nevermind. So what?” 

“It’s been a while since you were interested in someone.” 

Tim crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So?” Not everyone could be Dick. 

“Our family… tends not to choose the most suitable partners.”

“Like your mother?” 

“Like my grandfather,” Damian corrected him, tone pure acid. “Like the time you went out with Deathstroke’s oldest.” 

Yeah, okay, Grant was a bad idea, Tim had to give him that. “I never went on a date with Ra’s!” 

“But he wanted you to.” 

“Can we both just pretend you never said that?” He was going to have to scrub that image from his brain for months. _Months_. “And how, exactly, is Jason Todd anywhere near those categories?” 

Damian rolled his eyes. He was wearing a mask, but Tim knew. “Don’t play stupid. There’s no actual birth certificate for him anywhere. No school records, no nothing, until he shows up at age twenty-one with two kids, faked birth certificates, and no mother in sight. You don’t find that suspicious?” 

Given what he knew—no, Tim didn’t. Not in the way Damian thought. “And yet, you hired him.” 

“I’m sure he will be an asset to the company.” For some reason, Damian looked amused when he said that. “I would, however, remind you that, again, he has children.” 

“I know. I’ve met them.” 

“Of course you have.” 

Tim did his best not to bristle. “What’s that supposed to be mean?” 

Damian ignored his question with the ease of long practice. “You are a vigilante. You’re at the company for ten hours every day, then nap and go out all night. How are you going to be there for them?” 

“I’m not trying to adopt them, just date their father.” 

Damian snorted. “Then you are a fool.” 

“Oh, no. I’ve never heard _that_ sentiment from you before.”

“And you are fine with potentially endangering them?” 

“I’m not endangering them, I’m protecting them!” Tim defended himself. “Besides, we were younger than the older kid when we started doing this.” 

Damian scoffed but didn’t comment. After all, he had been the one to insist it was perfectly normal to be a seasoned assassin by age ten. 

For a moment, there was silence. Then Damian sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Honestly, so did Tim. The library thing _had_ been a total coincidence. Asking Jason’s kid to show him around hadn’t been. What could Tim say? Here was this courageous, buff man that carried his child around like it was the most precious thing in his universe. He was _weak_. 

And maybe, he acknowledged to himself, desperate to have something apart from _this_. 

“Don’t tell the family.” 

Damian hesitated, but: “I won’t.” 

Tim exhaled. He didn’t thank Damian, but he would make sure to cover for the other when he skipped town for his heat next time. 

That was just what they did. 

Tim didn’t allow himself to take time off the next day. Unlike when he was a teenager, his position at Wayne Co. wasn’t ornamental anymore. With Lucius gone, he wasn’t just nominal CEO in Bruce’s stead anymore; he was in charge of R&D, bat-related and otherwise. He had a team. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun to realize that he was responsible for people here, too. 

Leaving his office at precisely 5pm on a Friday was still enough to make the security guard raise his eyebrows at Tim. Maybe the brat had a point about his work hours. Wasn’t every day he had something to look forward to when he went home, though. 

His first instinct had been to spoil Jason, take him out to some fancy restaurant, treat him right. Luckily, though, he’d asked Kon for ideas and been told: “On no account, dude. Take him somewhere he’d be comfortable, or you’ll scare him off with your rich boy act.” 

Tim didn’t really get it—he was the one with the money, why should anyone care how he chose to spend it, least of all Jason—but he heeded his advice. At least that meant he could wear something else than a suit. Bart had suggested ‘your fuck-me jeans,’ but he decided on a less tight-and-ripped variant, paired with a nice shirt. If Dick were here, he would approve. 

He checked his scent maker. Still set to ‘beta.’ Then he put on his boots and jacket, grabbed a scarf on second thought (that shirt was pretty low-cut, no need to risk revealing the scent maker), and went off just in time. 

They were to meet at the entrance to the park. Jason had refused to let Tim pick him up; in fact, he neatly navigated it so he didn’t have to mention where he lived at all. Smart. Tim approved. 

His watch said 7.30 pm, and still there was no sign of Jason. Tim turned on his heels a few times, trying to see if Jason had maybe not taken the subway like he expected him to and was approaching from another direction. 7.34 pm. No one to see. 

Maybe he wasn’t coming. Had Tim come on too strong, after all? Would he have been more successful as his alter ego? Surely Jason would’ve let him know.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” 

“No worries,” Tim said, turning around—then did his best not to stare. Jason was wearing jeans and a black henley under his leather jacket, which should be boring, but ooh boy. 

Tim was used to being around vigilantes, heroes, villains, and everything in-between. Tight suits, battle bikinis, muscles, breasts, and thin waists—he’d seen it all. Jason wasn’t like that. He was tall and big, yes, with broad shoulders, but he was also soft, with wide hips and thick thighs. Tim knew what power lay behind that form, had seen him pick up things even Bruce would struggle with, but Jason was clearly more about function than aesthetic. 

He was making it difficult for Tim to think straight. 

“Uh. Hi.” 

“Hi.” There’s a hint of a smile around Jason’s mouth. “The next shift was late, and I had to stop by at home first.” 

“Yeah, must be difficult. It’s a lot easier to leave an office job on time than a building site when there’s no replacement.”

Jason tensed, eyes suddenly cold. “How do you know about my job?” 

Dammit. Tim smiled. “You were in the news.” 

“Ah.” The other’s shoulders relaxed. 

“Quite the flattering article, I gotta say,” Tim went on, trying to cover his nervousness. “Saving children like that… must’ve taken courage.” 

“Nah. Anyone would’ve done the same, I was just closest. Besides, I had help.” 

“You’re too modest. The paper made you out to be quite the lone hero.” Which Tim had been absolutely fine with, to be honest. He wasn’t in this for the credit. Besides, the more people remembered Red Robin existed, the more they found to criticize him for.

“I assumed that’s why you asked me out in the first place,” Jason told him frankly. 

Tim chuckled. Yeah, okay, it was, but not in the way the other thought, and it wasn’t like he could say that, was it? “I did see that article, but later.” True. He hadn’t needed to see it to know what happened. “My decision to give you my number and everything after was very decidedly just because of you.” 

Hah. That had been smooth, right? 

Jason seemed to think so, too, for he cleared his throat; there was the slightest hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “And what exactly did you plan for tonight?” 

Tim hadn’t told him anything except to dress warmly. Wanting to keep up the suspense a little longer, he only gestured toward the entrance: “You’ll see. Shall we?” 

Jason hesitated. “Is it gonna be expensive?” 

Tim blinked. This was a public park. Even if it was in one of Gotham’s fancier districts, it was still _Gotham_. The priciest things were the hotdogs at the vendors next to the lake. “No.” 

“Okay.” 

They walked in silence for a minute. Jason’s strides were long, but Tim kept up easily. Then Tim pointed. “There.”

There were lights ahead. As they walked closer, it became clear that they were shaped into specific scenes: Nymphs frolicking, a centaur running across the field, a stealthy 

“An artist collective is displaying their spring project this weekend. It’s not the most exciting thing, but I thought…” 

“Nah, it’s pretty. Like fairy lights.” 

_You’re pretty_, Tim wanted to say. “How about I get us some hot chocolate, and we walk around?” 

Finally, Jason smiled. “Sure.” 

They stood in line together, and when they had each picked a drink (dark hot chocolate for Jason, white one with an espresso shot for Tim), they started strolling along the path, occasionally stopping to examine an installation. 

Again it was Tim who broke the silence. “So. Tell me about yourself?” 

“Not much to tell.” Jason’s eyes were fixed on the lights. “I’m a construction worker, have been for years now. How about you?” 

“I took over Wayne Co. when my father was… away,” presumed dead but actually trapped in the past, “and have been stuck with it since.” 

“Stuck with it?” 

“Eh.” He shrugged. “I focus mostly on the research part of it.” 

“Hmm.” 

This was awkward, and Tim couldn’t figure out why. Sure, he couldn’t talk about the thing that had defined his life for a decade now, but why was Jason holding back? 

“You know,” he said finally, “I never caught the name of your youngest.” Then he paused. “At least, I assume she’s your youngest.” 

Jason laughed, though it sounded a bit forced. “Oh god, yes, no babies lying around anywhere. Her name is Morgan.” 

Tim thought. “Le Fay?” 

“Yupp.” Jason’s gaze was sharp. “Don’t tell me you’re into Arthurian legends.” 

“Uh, yeah, no.” There had been that supervillain who was looking for the Sword in the Stone to defeat his archnemesis. Childhood trauma, man. “Comic adaption, I’m afraid.” 

“Do you like comics?” 

“Yeah.” When he had time to read them.

“Any recommendations?” 

“For you or the kids?” 

Jason laughed. It sounded startled as if he wasn’t expecting it. “The kids. Nothing against comics, but when I do find time to read…” 

“Not your thing?” Tim guessed.

“Yeah.” 

“What is?” 

Jason shrugged. “I like novels. Historical, romance, classics, murder mysteries… depends on the mood. Just give me some good writing and solid characters. How about you? What do you do to relax?”

“Videogames, mostly, and occasionally comics. Uh, and work out. But I’m kind of a workaholic.” Understatement of the year. “I probably should make more time for that kind of thing, though. How do you find time for it with two kids?” 

Jason’s smile was wry. “Rarely. Speaking of—recommendations?” 

“Right! Okay, as a kid, I loved the Asterix and Obelix series, but there are some fantastic modern ones…”

The rest of the evening passed in amenable chatting. They even completed the circuit twice. Eventually, though, it was nearing closing time, and Jason was checking his watch for the third time, so Tim steered them toward the exit of the park. “Thanks for coming.” 

“I must say, this was not what I expected.” Something in Jason’s face softened. 

There were at least three different victory parades running through Tim’s brain right now. Somehow, he managed to keep that glee off his face. “So… would you like to meet up again, then?” 

“I think… yes. Yeah, why not,” Jason decided. “My turn to take you out.” 

“Awesome.” Now Tim _was_ grinning. 

“Though I’ll be hard-pressed to come up with something original after this.” Again, it felt like Jason’s eyes looked right through him. “You prefer relaxed things, don’t you? Not a fancy restaurant?” 

“I’m more of a couch-and-videogames type,” Tim admitted. “Like. Feed me some pizza, and I’ll consider it a great evening.” 

Jason grinned. “I think I can manage that.”

“Great.” 

They smiled at each other for a moment. Then Jason cleared his throat. “Well. Have a good evening.” 

“You, too. Get home safe.” That didn’t give anything away, right? Tim wasn’t saying it because he knew Jason was an omega, but because this was Gotham. 

Jason showed no sign of discomfort, just gave a small wave. “You, too. Bye.” 

Tim watched him walk off. It looked like he was on foot, not taking the subway. Well, then. He gave Jason two minutes head start, ostensibly walking into the other direction, before he pulled out his mask, turned down his scent, and went up on the roof, following him at a discreet distance.

Jason could take care of himself, but Tim needed to be _sure_.

He would be late for their nightly meet-up at the cave. Excuses would have to be made and Bruce would have zero chill about it, as usual, but it was totally, absolutely worth it in Tim’s opinion. 

Damian and the whole lot of them could fuck themselves. This would be his. Tim Drake’s, not Red Robin’s. _His. _


	5. Told myself this story a thousand times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a third date and an interruption. Also, cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfits curtesy of tobiismycat, who also made it obvious that I do need to include more descriptions of the kids.

Jason looked at his pots and crates with deep satisfaction. The herbs were coming along nicely. The tomatoes seemed almost ripe, too, a combination that promised some delicious pasta sauce in the near future. 

This whole balcony garden thing had started as a way to spruce up what little food they had and a cheap way to entertain the kids. Three years later, Jason was convinced that every neighborhood should start a gardening program, not to mention schools. 

It smelled good, too. Earth and herbs and the flowers Riley had insisted on, underlined by a smell like Jason’s favorite Christmas blend—

Wait. 

Jason sighed. “Hi, Red Robin.” 

“And here I thought I was stealthy enough this time.” The vigilante laughed and landed on his balcony. There was a soft thud. One advantage of the place being run down and creaky—no visitor could be all that sneaky.

“You smell.” 

“Ouch. And I didn’t even visit the sewers this time.” 

Jason laughed despite himself, then asked: “Any progress on the arson case?” 

Red Robin shook his head, radiating frustration. Moments like these, Jason really appreciated his scent makers. While they picked up on some of the hormonal changes in his system, he read as a pretty chill dude to anyone with a nose. 

“Has there been any police investigation at all?” 

“There’s a warrant out for him, at least. Not much they’re gonna do beyond that, not on their budget.” 

“Yeah,” Jason agreed pointedly, “not everyone has the time to personally stalk the places the offender might show up. Like, say, this house.”

“Maybe I’m rich and can afford it.” 

Jason snorted. “_Maybe_. Yeah, right.” 

Red Robin’s scent took on an offended edge burnt oranges. “Excuse me?”

“You have a custom car. _Of course_ you’re rich.”

The scent ebbed away as Red Robin chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah, I guess that does rather give it away.” 

“Just a little. Is there anything else? ‘Cause I’m going to turn in now. The munchkin’s gonna be up in seven hours.” 

“Nah.” Red Robin smiled. “I’m supposed to be at the docks in ten, anyway. Drug bust.” 

“Do you ever sleep?” Jason couldn’t help but ask. 

“Rarely.” And with a wave, the other man disappeared. 

Jason sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. Vigilantes, man. Sure, Red Robin seemed friendlier than most, but Jason knew better than to rely on any of them. The job would always come first. Drug bust at the docks, indeed.

Still. It wouldn’t hurt to offer Red Robin some coffee next time he stopped by. 

“Jason!”

At hearing his name, Jason looked around and found Tim waving at him from a table next to the window, a huge Latte in front of him. His date was just in jeans and a t-shirt, and Jason liked that. For one, it showed off Tim’s surprisingly strong forearms. Tim was lithe but clearly spent enough time in the gym to have something to show for it. 

Mostly, though, Jason appreciated that Tim felt comfortable enough around him to wear something like that. Sure, those tight pants had been a sight to behold, but he preferred this Tim, relaxed and always ready to laugh. 

When Jason walked over, he saw that there was already a cup of tea waiting for him. It smelled like Earl Grey, no milk, no sugar, just a bit of lemon, just how he liked it. 

Maybe he should bring Tim flowers next time. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” Tim smiled back. “How are you?” 

“I’m good.” Jason tried to think of something to tell Tim that wasn’t about the kids. “I’m still starting out at work, but it’s interesting so far. How about you?” 

“I’m good, too.” Tim pulled a grimace. “Wish I could tell you anything interesting about my week, but it’s just been a lot of paperwork because we’re finishing up the tax year, and everything needs my signature.” 

“Sounds… thrilling.” At least Jason didn’t have to deal with that. 

“And how are Morgan and Riley?” 

“They’re good. We’re all adjusting to the new 9 to 5 schedule.”

Tim smiled. “I bet they’re glad to have you home more.” 

“Morgan, yeah. Riley’s a bit undecided, I think.” 

“How old are they again?” 

“Thirteen, but their birthday is in three weeks. I’m still trying to figure out what to do for them.” 

“Oh?”

“I know most of the other kids are doing parties, but they say they don’t want that.” Jason didn’t mention that he was sure Riley’s stance would be different if her father could afford to take their friends anywhere else but their shitty apartment. 

Tim, though, chuckled. “Yeah, that’s weird in-between age. Too cool for parents, not old enough for parties. My youngest brother was the _worst_. As I’m sure we all were.”

“Probably.” 

They laughed, and Tim asked: “What did you do for your birthday at that age?” 

Yeah, no. Jason was decidedly not going to talk about that time.

“Nothing special. What did you do for yours?” he asked instead.

Tim thought about it. “Honestly, I don’t remember. My parents weren’t home a lot, though, so I don’t think we did anything together.”

“You went out with friends, then?” 

Tim shrugged. “Probably. I was, uh, occasionally staying with my adoptive father already. Might’ve spent it with him.” 

“You’re adopted?” Ooops, that had probably been too blunt. But Tim didn’t seem upset. 

“Yeah, my parents died when I was a teenager. Bruce took me in.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jason said sincerely. 

“Thank you.” Tim’s smile was soft, but there. “It’s been twelve years, but…” 

“Yeah. That doesn’t leave you.” 

Jason regretted the words as soon as he said them. Surely Tim would now ask him about his own parents, and then Jason would have to be annoyingly vague in repayment of Tim’s honesty.

But Tim only nodded. “Yes. Exactly.” 

They contemplated that in silence for a moment. It was a nice moment, and it felt only natural when Tim brought them back to lighter terrain.

“Anyway, give it a few years, and I’m sure Riley will be begging you to just stay out of the house on their birthday so they can have a party.” 

Jason laughed. “Probably. They somehow managed to catch the extrovert gene. No idea where they got that from.” 

“Parties aren’t your thing, then?” Tim grinned. 

“Not really. Yours?” 

“I have to attend galas occasionally, but they’re not what I would consider real parties,” Tim explained. “More show-off contests.” 

“Wow, you sound enthusiastic.” 

“It’s more part of the job than anything else. Like office Christmas parties, I guess.” 

“Oh, god, we had those at my last job and my boss—” His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Jason immediately grabbed it. At the last second, he remembered to ask: “Sorry, do you mind? I set it on silent for everyone but the babysitter.” 

“Go ahead.” Tim took another sip of his coffee. 

_We’re heading back home early. People decided Morgan and Lian were too cute_—this was followed by five princess emojis—_and started to crowd around them_. 

Oh no. Morgan—she didn’t deal well with crowds. Or strangers touching her. Or too much noise. She couldn’t filter so many people talking, she was probably so overwhelmed now—

_Is she okay???_ He texted back. 

The seconds picked by. 

“What happened?” Tim asked softly. 

“Sorry, I—” Jason was staring at his phone, willing it to answer. He was _this_ close to just calling when Kori finally texted him back: _She’s fine now. We’re watching Frozen. Again. Lian’s napping with Roy. He hated it more than Morgan did._

Jason breathed out. Okay. Morgan was okay. She was okay. 

The panic only lessened and never fully abated. He knew it wouldn’t until he could see her for himself. “I—I think I have to go home. Morgan, she’s… yeah. I have to go.” 

Tim looked a little putout, but he pulled himself together with a smile. “No worries. I understand.” 

He pretty visibly didn’t, and Jason hesitated for a second, but his need to be with his kids won out. Always would. 

“Raincheck?” 

“Of course. Have a good weekend, Jason.” 

“You, too.”

Jason left the café heavy with the knowledge that he had just fucked this up. 

Of course, when he made it home, Morgan wouldn’t even look at him. She was too busy singing along with Elsa. 

Riley, however, frowned at him. “You’re supposed to be on a date.” 

“Something came up,” was all Jason was willing to say. “How was shopping?” 

They shrugged. “We found a few good hoodies.” 

“You have to show Jason the black one,” Kori added. “He’ll love it.” 

Jason wasn’t sure he would. 

Kori got up and said: “Walk me to the door, Jason.” 

The door was literally less than thirty steps away. Jason obeyed and followed her, anyway. 

Kori was smiling. Jason knew at least three men that would’ve given their right hand for the sight, but it made him want to back up. “This was your third date, right?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Uh, yeah.” They had gotten some pizza last weekend.

“Did he kiss you?” 

“What—” Jason sputtered. “Jesus, Kori, no.”

Kori, however, did not look disappointed. “But he wants to.” 

Jason didn’t deign to answer that, just said pointedly: “Thank you for taking them to the mall, Kori.” 

“Anytime.” She kissed his cheek. “Seriously. Roy and I, we like seeing you go out. Let me know when you need us, okay?” 

“Thank you.” This time it came out a lot more honestly. 

As the door closed behind her, Jason pulled out his phone to check the time and saw that he had another text. This time, it was from Tim.

_Is Morgan okay?_

Jason smiled. _Yeah. Sorry for walking out on you_.

_No need to apologize!!!!! _

_Still. _

_You can always buy the next coffee if you want to make up for it ;) _

_I can do that._

He could see Tim was typing, then stopped, then started again. Finally, there was a reply: _I still liked seeing you, even if it was brief. It doesn’t have to be hours every time if shorter is easier for you._

Lost in thought, Jason stared at the screen long after it went dark. It was just… 

He liked Tim, but he didn’t kid himself. An alpha taking care of his two kids—that implied a tragic backstory, the loss of a mate, a dedication to family. An omega with two kids and no second-fathers or mate around… 

He was damaged goods. 

Jason could feel a whine building low in this throat and shut it down ruthlessly. This was bullshit. He wasn’t worth less than anyone else because of his beautiful kids. Still, the entire situation was scraping at his instincts, bringing those negative voices that never seemed to shut up entirely when he was on his own.

But he knew just who could help him with that. 

“Hey,” he asked, smiling. “Wanna stay in today?” 

Morgan wrinkled her nose adorably. “We stay in most evenings.” 

Riley gently poked her shoulder. “He means in his nest.” 

“Oh!” Morgan brightened. “Yessss!” 

“Alright, then go get your blankets and cushions! I expect a pillow fort worthy of royalty.” Jason turned and walked over to the balcony, pressing a small, hidden button. The windows sealed shut with a low sucking noise. Roy had set to work on it a few years ago, then proceeded to test it by burning some scraps. The neighbors hadn’t smelled a thing. 

The blackout curtains followed. No one was gonna look into their living room tonight, not even certain stalker vigilantes. 

“Dad, we’re ready!” 

That was indeed a sizeable pile of cuddly items. “And where,” Jason paused and glared playfully, “are your uniforms?” 

Morgan sped off again, giggling, but Riley sighed. “Dad.” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m too old for this.” 

“Nope.”

“I’m almost _fourteen_.” 

Jason tried not to laugh. “Practically ancient. Your sister isn’t, though, and she loves it when you both wear them.” When that didn’t get them to budge, he promised: “I’ll wear the shorts with the rainbow shirt.” 

“…fine.” 

Morgen came back not five minutes later, clad in her calico cat onesie, trusty Benjamin in tow. Riley trotted after them, wearing their own giraffe onesie with the kind of defiant dignity that only teenagers could muster. True to his word, Jason had already changed into the outfit that had made the other parents lose their shit during that one field trip. 

The next minutes were spent setting up a blanket fort worthy of emperors (Riley was learning about the Roman ones at school) and even an ice queen, as Morgan made sure to add. 

Then, with great ceremony, Jason took off his scent maker. 

It barely took a minute for the atmosphere in the room to change. Jason couldn’t really smell himself, but in those first moments when he took the maker off, he noticed the change; tea leaves and black pepper replacing iron and sandalwood.

They didn’t indulge in this often. The kids had become used to his scent maker by now. Morgan occasionally wrinkled her nose at it, but his ability to tone down his scent or set it to neutral so it wouldn’t overwhelm her was a huge bonus. 

Riley, though, remembered his natural scent. They had spent their childhood surrounded by it (and not much else.) He could see their nostrils flare, their own scent changing in response. They melted into the cushions, rubbing against the blankets a bit to make sure they left their mark. Jason laid down beside them, adding his own.

Morgan couldn’t always deal with touch, so Jason was careful to wrap her into a blanket before pulling her close. Content, she buried her face in his shoulder, breathing deeply. Her own scent, weak as that of any child, sweetened noticeably. 

They spent some time just like that, quietly content in their little nest. 

Then Morgan whispered: “Seriously, though. How did your date go?” 

“It was nice.” Jason considered how much he should tell his kids. 

The relaxed atmosphere made it difficult to be cautious, though. And they deserved to know the truth about anything that concerned their family. “I was worried that I screwed it up—” 

“Bad word,” Morgan murmured. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re right. I was worried that I made him angry by leaving early, but he wants to see me again.” 

“He’s a beta that made it in the business world,” Riley pointed out. “Our teacher says that’s very rare. Of course he’s going for what he wants.” 

Sure. Jason just had a bit of difficulty believing that that was him. 

But he wasn’t thinking about that. 

“I like his scent,” he whispered as if it was a secret. Because it was. 

Riley giggled. “Yeah? What’s it like? I didn’t get a good whiff at the library.” 

“It’s very light. Kinda… citrus-y.” 

“Lemons are mean.” Morgan’s pronouncement was absolute. 

Jason chuckled. “How so?” 

“They sting. Their juice hurts.” Morgan chewed on the lips, visibly concentrating. “Uh… they’re yellow.” 

Riley wasn’t looking at Jason. Jason tried very hard to keep a straight face. “Tim isn’t yellow, though.” 

“He could be!” 

That was too much. Riley started giggling, and Jason followed suit, laughing and laughing until there were tears in their eyes and even Morgan had joined them. 

Moments like these, Jason knew: This, these precious beings right here, were worth everything. Even lying to someone like Tim. 

He just couldn’t risk this. 


End file.
